I am really hurting here people. Yesterday something horrific happened. I received a package from Staples (that’s not the horrific part), this is – when I opened this package inside was a live….COCKROACH!

I didn’t order 3 binders, a set of assorted colored gel pens and one giant cockroach? I don’t know how it got there?!

Maybe a disgruntled Staples employee had a workplace accident but the insurance guy ruled in the company’s favor. And now this employee is left with endless hospital bills and a thankless job. So when he went back to work on the assembly line he screamed, ‘EVERYBODY GET OUT I NEED A MINUTE’. And as soon as the room had cleared he started placing cockroach after cockroach into every single delivery, the whole time laughing and laughing and laughing. But this is just small potatoes cause he’s planning on taking down the whole operation! I don’t know all the details? I’m still trying to piece it together myself?!

Or maybe that’s not it at all.

Maybe the cockroach entered the box on his own free will. Maybe he told his pregnant cockroach wife and his 3,000 cockroach children that he was going out for smokes but really he thought, ‘I’m gonna blow this pop-stand!’ and hopped an outgoing delivery to freedom. And you may smugly think: what a dead-beat dad; but you haven’t even heard his side of the story. He knows he should hang in there, he knows its wrong but he’s wearing thin. ‘You don’t know everything that goes into raising 3,000 baby cockroaches’, he says! Finally he got to a point where he couldn’t even remember his own name and the rest of his life flashed before his eyes and thats when he finally cracked!

I told you, I DON’T KNOW? But what I do know is for some horrible reason that cockroach is holding my school supplies hostage. And I’m assuming he will continue to do so until I adhere to all his demands (which he’ll most likely slip under my door once I fall asleep).

And even though this cockroach is clearly trespassing I refuse to kill anything even if it is a vile and ugly (and most likely mean-spirited). So I did the humane thing and put another box over that box. For now, my plan is to just wait it out until he goes crazy from solitude and eventually takes his own life.

Or I’ll wait until someone braver comes by and I’ll politely ask them to set him free outside.

I don’t know how I got here, this got a little weird…but thanks for your support.

I’m Not Angry, I’m Just Really Disappointed In You – Staples or Disgruntled Employee or Absentee Father Cockroach:

I felt a little self-conscious about this post because it fully exposes my weirdness, so I decided to send it to my little brother before posting. He gave me several very useful suggestions that I fully appreciated but didn’t use at all. Actually I’ll just paste the conversation here so you get what I’m talking about.

Me: I’m seeing a bunch of mistakes

but also I’m really asking about content. Is it too weird?

Brother: yeah it’s riddled

Me: well then help me!

I’m mean if u have time, that is

Brother: ok first off, i think it would be funnier if it was less hysterical

Me: ok but I felt hysterical

cause this REALLY happened to me!

Brother: No I understand

but I would lose a lot of the question marks and exclamation points

Me: good note

Brother: I would make it a lot drier

Mind if I just make some notes and send it back to you?

And he did send me notes, a lot of notes. His version was actually way better than mine but yet I still decided against making changes.

Do you want to hear the wonderful way in which my father tricked me into holding the dead frozen carcass of my most beloved pet? Of course you do.

I’ll start from the beginning. When I was nine I had a beautiful pure-breed mini rex bunny named Velvet. I loved Velvet. Velvet was awesome.

This particular Summer my mom convinced my sister and I to take a road trip with her from Northern Cali down to Southern Cali to spend a few days in Disneyland. (At least that is the story we were told. What we weren’t told was, we’d be taking several planned ‘pit-stops’ at ALL of the California Missions.)

My dad, being much smarter than us, said he would be staying home.

We were gone about two weeks and in that time I had missed Velvet dearly. So naturally, the first thing I did upon returning home was cheerfully run to his cage, bend down and pick him up. “Wake up little baby Velvet.” I said. Only Velvet didn’t wake up.

I realized something was wrong. Very wrong. I thought to myself while petting his smooth, damp, hard as ice, freezing cold body. ‘Strange? I don’t remember Velvet being so…so… FROZEN?!’

Turns out, my dad had apparently “forgotten to mention” that Velvet had indeed died while we were away. So with the very best intentions, he made what he thought was the most logical choice at the time. He had placed Velvet in a storage size Ziploc bag, put that bag into the freezer and then returned the rock hard frozen bunny body back into the cage moments before we arrived. As if none of it had happened.

Upon hearing this – my nine year old self screamed, “You murderer! How could you let Velvet die??!” With years of insight between myself and this incident as a full grown woman I would now yell – “You murderer! How could you let Velvet fucking die??!”

To patch up this situation my parents quickly replaced Velvet with Cookie. Only Cookie was an asshole. Cookie scratched the shit out of you every time you attempted to hold him. And just like the asshole he was, Cookie took his sweet time dying of natural causes.

If I went to therapy, my therapist would probably say that replacing dead pets immediately with new un-dead* pets, without proper time for mourning, has formulated how I deal with loss of any kind in adulthood. But therapy is for people with solid health coverage.

To my family:

Dad – This is an official, ‘No offense’, which means you can not have Mom call me to tell me that I’m shaming the family name by putting everything up on the “world wide web”. You’ve taught me a lot of really valuable shit. One of those lessons being, how not to handle the death of a beloved childhood pet. Thank you.

I have some questions that I can’t ask the internet or that I asked the internet and the answer was inconclusive. I’m flying blind here and I’m not sure who to turn to. If you happen to be an authority of some kind and know any of these answers please tell me. Tell me now.

Do kids still learn cursive?

Why won’t Ken propose to Barbie?

Aren’t acronyms just initials and initials just acronyms?

When are fanny packs going to officially come back in?

Why isn’t everyone obsessed with narwhals?

Which one is the pretty sister – MK or Ashley?

Is it just me or does Ryan Gosling look a little Methy*?

Do you want me to tell you where it hurts?

Is your accent real? Is anyones real?

Are boner jokes funnier than fart jokes?

Is it true any exposure is good exposure?

Can you get pregnant from kissing?

Who would win in a fight – Conan O’Brien or Jon Stewart?

Who would win in a dance fight – Conan O’Brien or Jon Stewart?

Will someone carry me home?

Let’s Just Remember At One Point, I Was Funny:

*One who looks as if they have just come off a methamphetamine bender.

Eventually when I do my first stint in rehab, I’ll get to the part where I have to apologize to all the people I’ve wronged in my life. Instead of putting it off, I’ve decided to take a moment and get one out of the way now.

Dear Little Brother,

As you know most of the time I get over shit pretty quickly. Mostly cause I’m such a reasonable person but more mostly cause my memory is really bad. Yet there is one very un-fun memory that has always stuck with me. What I’m trying to say is; I’m sorry that my dick-head friends duct taped you and locked you in the closet that one time I threw a party.

I’ve always felt really bad that I wasn’t watching you closer or that I hadn’t bribed you to spend the night at a friend’s house. I had hoped you buried the memory so far deep down inside that you completely forgot but since you weren’t actually that young, there’s a good chance you didn’t.

Unless you don’t know what I’m talking about and if that’s the case – then this is a weird joke??! Huh?!

And while I’m at it…MB, the most wonderful person in the world, I’m sorry I ditched you that one time in the 6th grade, that was really fucked up of me.

Anyways, I love both of you more than outer-space and Facebook combined. Please, forgive me otherwise I’ll pass-out and die. And then come back to haunt you as an evil version of myself.